


Mist Memories

by Sphinxriddle



Series: Relics of Ascalon [1]
Category: Guild Wars (Video Game), Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Aka Let's watch my Baby Necromancer turn from very timid to terrible grumpy swamp lich, Multi, Not Beta Read, Old Writing really but like still proud
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-25 14:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21357610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sphinxriddle/pseuds/Sphinxriddle
Summary: A collection of Snippets and short fics dancing throughout the life of Eloise Havran, Daughter of Sir Tydus Havran and Champion of the Ascalonian Vanguard.Aka One Whole Goth Noble turns into a Goth Swamp Lady over like, 300 years
Series: Relics of Ascalon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539655





	1. To Visit Mother

A small figure moved along the coffins of the catacombs silently as the graves that surrounded her. Gently touching their tops, tracing the names along the stones so gingerly that not even the dust was disturbed, then quickly moving on to the next one. Young Lady Eloise Havran, Daughter of Sir Tydus Havran and Duchess Marina Barradin, seventeenth in line for the Throne of the Great Kingdom of Ascalon knew exactly which grave she was looking for. 

Oberan had told the young lady that there was a special one near a votive candle stand deep in the catacombs where he had left some books for her while “she avoided that awful tutor of hers and enjoyed some real learning.” The young lady - always young lady had to remember she was a noble could not disappoint father, must keep up appearances after all - liked Oberan for that. He seemed to be the only adult who actually cared about what The Young Lady Eloise wanted to do, or learn, or be. 

He always seemed so attentive when she told him stories about Master Ruvens boring lessons on posture and etiquette and occasionally archery, and was always so patient with her when she asked him about what he was doing so deep in the labyrinth of tunnels beneath Ascalon. She wondered if next time, he would teach her some necromancy. She was a whole six years old, that was practically an adult! Cousin Lady Althea was only a couple years older than her and she was already casting fancy Mesmer spells.

She hoped Father wouldn’t make her become a Mesmer. Or a Warrior. Or A Ranger. Not that she didn’t think those were worthy professions. She loved watching Father talk to Master Ranger Nente and watching their pets play, and Uncle Duke Barradin was so masterful with his hammer but.... but...

None of them felt right to her, and by Grenth she wanted something that felt uniquely hers. 

She descended a set of old, cracked, stone stairs past giant engraved stone faces, contorted into a scream. Oberan told her once, they were relics of when the God of the Dead was not so kind, not so loyal, not so Human. When Dhuum ruled the mortal realms. She just thought they looked funny. Across a just as old stone bridge she skipped, listening to the loud sound of water soaring down from those screaming mouths. 

Perhaps Oberan had put the books near Mother. She would like to visit mother. 

She continued her jaunt, past murals of faceless gods, and heroes of old, past skeletons of creatures bigger than anything she had ever seen living. Heard the chattering of the strange creatures known as Gargoyles who inhabited this bit of the catacombs. She liked them. They made fun noises and collected shiny things like some of the birds she liked to feed in the Garden. Slowly, she trudged into a small tomb decorated with stained glass and ghost light candles. 

Inside the large intricate stone hall were hundreds of coffins not unlike the others she had seen on her trip here, no, on her many trips here. She walked past familiar names this time, Great Uncle Elrik the Red, named thus for his hair, and Great Great Grandmother Helna the Brave, a Warrior of her time with no equal, and finally. 

“Hello Mother” She whispered to the cold stone as she pulled herself up to a raised coffin in the corner of the vault. Newer that most of the other coffins in vault and unique for housing a strange little collection of objects where it met the stone walls. A Blanket, a ghost light candle, and a small series of books on the very basics of necromancy and summoning, a series of shiny rocks she had planned to give to the gargoyles, and her work from her Orrian Script Lessons. Seeing the books, a new addition to her own little piece of Ascalon, she smiled. 

Yes. Someday she would like to visit Mother, and these books held the key to making that a reality. 


	2. Corpse Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Necromancer Summoners Her First Minion

A corpse sat in front of Young Lady Havran, atop a golden altar surrounded by candles deep in the grave maze beneath the country of Ascalon. It had been a devourer in life, prey to one of the wandering dead of the catacombs, and now it served a different purpose. It served to serve, under the watchful stained glass eyes of Grenth and the will of a young necromancer. 

Eloise extended her thin hand over the corpse, careful and poised, hiding the fear beneath the facade of nobility she had so carefully cultivated over the past fifteen years of her life. She could feel its life force, the fabric of its being, pull upon her gently, ever so gently, as if begging to be brought back to the waking world.

"Excellent work Eloise, you’ve caught its threads. Now beckon it back in new form." Oberans voice sounded like a distant echo compared to the thrum of life and death wrapped around her arms and her heart. Dancing, billowing strands of green flowed forth from the body like a river from what once was to what was to be, under the kind eyes of glass above. 

"One who has passed beyond." Her voice did not divulge her anxiety, speaking a language familiar yet foreign. Older than Ascalon itself. "Hear my voice and come whence so that I may borrow your strength and you may walk among us in a new form if but for a while longer, and return to Grenth with tales anew." The strands of green rose up, wrapping around the body until they found her eyes, which glowed but for a second, when the stream of life switched directions and started stitching together the corpse in a new, bipedal form. 

First the legs, thin things, not too stable but good enough to do the job for the short time the creature would be there, then its body and head, thick and defensive, meant to take hits for the being and for the summoner. The bones that made up its arm were once the pointed chitin of the devourer’s stingers, sharp and deadly, the weapon of the summoner. It stood, groaning somehow though it lacked a mouth, and bowed to Lady Havran. 

Oberan the Reviled watched as a true smile erupted from his apprentices face. A true rarity in these times of bloodied strings of war and noble webs, wrapping and choking the life out of every single young person in the entire kingdom. As she turned and clapped, motioning the shambling horror forward for him to see he returned her smile and stepped from the shadows he had been in, to allow her true concentration. He reached out a strong hand to her shoulder and whispered the truth to her ears.

"You’ve done it, a true necromancer now stands before me. With minion and blood and curses at her command, and I’m very proud of her, of you, Eloise."


	3. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day fire rained from Ascalons sky, everything, and everyone, lost a great deal.

Oberan once told her that Soul Reaping was the double edged sword of necromancy. That its sickly sharp pull on each of them, its stabbing reminder of the fragility of those around them, kept necromancers honest and honorable and dedicated to the order. He had never told her what happened to necromancers on the other side of the blade, the ones who drowned in the ocean of the dead, and now - now she tried her best not to think of it.

She knew how being pushed under that sea level felt. Every Necromancer in Ascalon did; they all learned together, five years prior as fire and death rained from the sky. The day the rolling green hills of the home she loved turned into scorched earth and red skies. None of them had been the same after that day, nor would they ever be again.

Verata had grown more self important than he ever had been, Mune and Kasha threw themselves into their work, Eloise she... well she had the Vanguard work to keep her busy, and she never really was one with burdening others with her problems anyway, and Oberan. 

"Eli, are you ready to kick that old mans ass or not?" Orion voice snapped the young necromancer from her thoughts. Orion had changed as well, though she was never sure where the new began and the old still stood. There was his hair for one, a stark white to its old brown, and his smile never seemed as genuine as before and.. 

"Yes." she must remain focused on the task at hand, to lose focus here would surely be her end. "and Orion, his name is Oberan." she spoke slowly, as she started to move from their perch above the haunt of her former teacher. Driven mad by the deaths at the searing, Oberan had spent the last five years "rebuilding his family" so to speak, without the power of a monk at his command. Not that that would have mattered, those slew by that day were beyond the skills of even the most powerful priest of Dwayna to return to life. So instead, he used what skills he had at hand, and made a family of minions, a mad mans attempt to fix what killed him every time he closed his eyes. 

"Either way he's gonna be dead soon Eli. I still don’t understand why you spent so long defending this guy to your like, what are they? coworkers?" Orion continued, dusting off the red dirt from his clothing. "Like hes gonna be facing me, and you! Does not matter how many minions the old coot has made out of his grandmother." A sharp look from his compatriot shut him up, and readied him for combat.

"We make this quick." Eloise muttered more to herself than to Orion, pulling out her sword and dagger and walking forward. Sensing her former teachers threads of life, and used them to locate him. There Oberan sat, in front of his families graves - makeshift as all graves are since the collapse of most of the entrances to the catacombs - whispering to jagged horrors shambling around him, mindless servants, soulless creatures of pain. She was doing him a kindness, Mune had told her earlier, him and all the pained creatures he made. She had to remember this. She had to.

The shambling beasts paid her no mind as she walked by them, Orion, on the other hand was not so lucky, swarming him the moment he came into view. There was no going back now, the task was to be completed. Delicate and precise sword work on Eloise's part, and dangerous magic punctuated by undignified swearing on Orion’s dispatched the minions and warned their quarry of their approach.

"Where is the Grenth-cursed whelps who dare lay hands upon my family" Oberan stood in front of a makeshift grave marker, stone but with names painted atop it instead of engraved as was traditional in Ascalon. He seemed so much worse for wear. His armor was broken in so many places his hands, his hands were bleeding and... 

"Old Man, Your time is up, prepare to face the wrath of the Magnificent Orion Elek and Eloise!" Orion exclaimed, she hated him for how much this felt like a joke to him but... this was why she brought him. To distract her, even with rage. Eloise took her position between Orion and their quarry. 

"The Order of Ascalon calls for your death Oberan the Reviled, on charges of unethical necromantic practices in the wake of the Searing." Just as she practiced with Mune. Solid. Breathe. Her sword pointed at her former teacher, she stood still, Mune had told her not to let him speak but she... she couldn’t do that. 

"Eloise?" Oberan spoke, staggering a bit. "Kasha sent  _ you _ , Eloise?" For a moment, she thought she could see him in his eyes again. That perhaps, in sending her, Kasha had won Oberan back his sanity. He threw his head in his hands, and shambled forward, his minions picking themselves off the ground. "Kasha will PAY for sending you, and YOU! You will pay for betraying me!" He rushed them.

Storms of blows bounced off her sword, trained to defend more than attack, Eloise hoped Orion was working his magic as fast as he could. "You’re soul will writhe in AGONY when I’m finished with you! NOTHING will be left for Grenth to Claim, you TRAITOR." His attacks were savage, without thought, Eloise found them difficult to predict. She looked over her shoulder at her struggling Elementalist companion, dealing with a new waves of minions. Gods, Grenth, Please.

"I taught you! I taught you EVERYTHING I know, when NO ONE else would teach you for fear of your fathers plans for you and now THIS is how you repay me." Oberan dropped his staff, instead deciding that his fists were his weapon of choice against his former apprentice, madly flailing at her. Swearing behind her told her Orion was still no where close to ready with his spells. She smelt burning corpses. This wasn’t fast, this had to be fast "you FORBID me my FAMILY! YOU WILL DIE IN EXCURTIATING AG-"

Blood. Blood all over her hands, all over her sword, her sword that she could see jutting out from the back of her former master. He stopped swinging, instead, falling further onto the blade and into Lady Eloise Havrans arms. His knees buckled, Orion watched the minions fall around him. 

"Eli, look I..." Orion trailed off, watching from a distance as Eloise lowered his former teacher to the ground. Oberans eyes drooped heavily, his hands, struggled to move. Her mask was back, the cold eyes, stern lipped, noble chill, while Oberan. He seemed clearer than he was but a minute ago. 

"El-Eloise?" Oberan asked, weak, a million miles away. Eloise nodded solemnly, saying nothing. He managed to get his hand near her face, and gently placed her red hair behind her ear. Lady Havran sat there, silent as stone. Unmoving. 

"I’m so proud of you Eloise" 

His arm fell quickly, silently, to his side, and just as fast. He was gone. Lady Eloise Havran was stoic, solid, as the ground beneath them. Or was, until she felt the hand of a friend on her shoulder. 

Then The Tears Never Stopped.


End file.
